


Touch

by alwaysatime (orphan_account)



Series: Touch [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death, F/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alwaysatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never destined to touch, yet when it all ended (for it always ended, no matter how hard they tried,) they were too late. A series of reincarnation one-shots featuring Éponine and Enjolras. 1/5 planned reincarnation cycles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

### The June Rebellion - 1832

_They were never destined to touch, yet when it all ended (for it always ended, no matter how hard they tried) they were too late._

_-.-.-_

She was the boy in the scruffy cap, with the over-sized coat and dirty cheeks, in love with Marius Pontmercy. Her name was Éponine, her life was cold and dark, but she was unafraid of what tomorrow would bring. He was the student, with his arms full of books and revolutionary plans, ready to become a lawyer. His name was Enjolras, his head filled with dreams of revolution and freedom for France.

They'd barely ever acknowledged each other, only the briefest glances of recognition ever passed between them. They'd barely understood each other, not until it was too late.

He had never understood what she saw in Pontmercy. Marius was a foolish, love-sick boy with no sight of France's bigger picture, no idea of the true meaning of freedom. How could Marius claim to see freedom when he couldn't even see the adoration in the eyes of Éponine Thénardier?

He could see it, it was clear as glass to him, in the way she followed him around, gladly agreeing to deliver his letters to some girl he'd only just met the day before. He saw the heartache in Éponine's eyes and it struck him more than any tragic romance novel ever had. Life wasn't always found in books, it was also found in her eyes.

She had never understood how he could sacrifice everything. His money, his education, and his future; all for the freedom of France. How could they win the favour of Paris when the only goal of the poor was to live another day?

She could see it, it was apparent to anyone, Enjolras was a brave, courageous, inspiring man, rallying men to his fighting cause, including Marius. She saw the passion in Enjolras' eyes and it was enough for her to let them all continue to believe Paris would indeed join their side when the barricades arose. Still, she would join those schoolboys, if only for Marius' sake.

_One day more ..._

_-.-.-_

_A heart full of love ..._

Marius had sent her with a letter for his love, never seeing the wretched look upon her blemished face. The letter for Cosette was clutched between her dirty, white-knuckled fingers, but she said nothing about it. Nothing about how she knew Cosette as a dirty, ratty girl who ran in and out of the blurry memories from her childhood. Éponine promised to take the letter with haste and Marius wrapped his arms around her in a friendly embrace.

Only Enjolras saw her eyes shut in contentment and a smile that stole over her tired features.

Delivering the letter was a thankless job for her, but she did it anyways. She did it out of her love for him. Marius had no idea how she felt about him, and it was better that way. Let him love the beautiful, perfect Cosette, who had only ever been the dirt under Éponine's feet until some man had come to take her away. How badly had she wished that he could have taken her away too? This was the price she had paid for her sins, she supposed. Her childhood spent watching Cosette be tormented by her parents, and now Cosette was to be rewarded with Marius' love.

Éponine took the letter to Cosette's father with a stiff upper lip - vowing not to cry when she saw him - the man who could have given her freedom, once upon another time. When she left, however, she was close to tears. How had she come to grief in such a way as this? That she would allow Marius to love this other girl, a girl Éponine had spent her childhood watching grow up in poverty. She had once questioned Enjolras' willingness to give up everything for France, and here she was, giving up everything she had for Marius. Still, she knew her last chance at happiness had slipped through her fingers the moment she had led Marius to Cosette.

Éponine ran back towards the barricades, desperate as she wound through the streets she knew so well. There was nothing left to lose if she told him. Nothing left at all.

_He was never hers to lose ..._

_-.-.-_

_She was the first to fall ..._

That night on the barricade was Éponine's last, and it tore at Enjolras to see her die in Pontmercy's arms. Watching her climb the barricade, he swore loudly at her determination to reach the top, to return to the boy who would never care for her more than a dear friend. She had not deserved such a fate, to die in the arms of the boy who would never care for her the way she wanted. He saw Marius murmur words of comfort to the wounded woman, attempting to make her last moment happy ones. Had Pontmercy finally realized what he, Enjolras, had known all along? That Éponine Thénardier was in love with him and had always been in love with him?

If only he could seal her wounds of heartache and pain. If only the happy endings that existed in his books could exist for Éponine, too. He prayed for her then - that her last moments would indeed by happy ones - and that she would finally find peace. Enjolras wanted to go to her, to pull her thin form into his own embrace and let her know that someone had cared for her, even if it wasn't Marius Pontmercy.

At the end of that day, her body stilled, and before he could go forward to help Marius had already lifted the girl up. The pavement where she had lain shone with her blood. Deep inside the guilt settled in, that his barricade had brought about her death, would bring about any number of deaths. And yet, this battle was to be fought for her, and all others like her. This battle was to be fought for every soul in France. These men beside him had chosen to be here, to fight for Patria.

Éponine's body was seemingly weightless as Pontmercy strode quietly across to the tavern, gently placing her body against the wall, closing her eyes and placing her hands in her lap. Her wet brown hair hung limply around her face, and Enjolras watched as Marius brushed a few stray locks and tucked them behind her ears. Never again would those wide brown eyes gaze upon the world that had treated her so cruelly. Perhaps it was better this way, he told himself, as he watched Marius hover for a moment before rejoining his comrades.

Enjolras wasn't aware he had walked over to her until he was close enough to touch her.

Just a little fall of rain, he thought, his eyes brushing over her peaceful, half-smiling face, she could just be sleeping.

With that thought, he was able to turn around and walk in the other direction. He would fight for her, for her and for Patria.


	2. Touch: Aftermath

### Enjolras' Funeral - 1832

"I think I was a little bit in love with her."

There had been no burial for Éponine. Marius had not been able to claim the body while he had been recovering, and he was sure her parents wouldn't have bothered. Most of the unclaimed corpses had been burned. He and Cosette were in a fiacre, on their way back from Enjolras' funeral. The only sounds were those of busy streets and Paris' poorest inhabitants. Eventually, though, the sounds faded to the lone sound of horsehoes on pavement. All Marius could think about now, however, was the poor gamine girl who had been in love with him.

Cosette was clutching his arm tightly because she was afraid that if she let go, he would disappear. Marius was her whole life now that papa was gone. Of course, Cosette remembered Éponine all too well now. The little round-faced girl who had been the object of her envy. Éponine had had her parents' love - her sister and brothers' love - while all Cosette had had was the memory of a woman in white who sang her lullabies in her dreams.

"Not that I don't love you, Cosette," Marius was quick to reassure her now, a nervous smile hovering on his lips. Cosette bobbed her head up and down, returning his smile without thinking too much of it, as she was still deep in thought. Éponine had been a dear friend, in the end, hadn't she? Éponine had given her Marius. Éponine had given her life for Marius and delivered him to Cosette. If Cosette had been asked a month ago, she would have been hard-pressed to feel sympathy for the girl who had only served to further her misery when they were children. Now Cosette had still forgiven Éponine easily, even before their two paths had met again. Even before she had seen that Éponine was the lonely, starving one in the end.

"You're the only one for me, Cosette." Marius was still rambling on about her, and it made Cosette laugh inwardly a bit. In some ways, Marius was still a little boy, just as she was sometimes a little girl lost in a wood. It was definitely one of his more endearing traits. "It's just - just - I think Éponine deserved better than what her life gave her."

"Did you tell her?" Cosette found herself asking. "That you love her?"

"I did." Marius looked uncomfortable for a moment, maybe crestfallen. Concerned, Cosette gently placed her hand over his. "Before she died. I - I didn't mean it then, though. I wish I could have."

They fell quiet, then, as the horses came to a whinying halt for another carriage to pass by.

"I think Enjolras loved Éponine, too. A little bit." Marius remembered the expression on the young revolutionary's face as he had gazed upon Éponine lifeless form. Marius had only ever seen that look when Enjolras had talked of Republic, of revolution, of Patria. The resolve and determination in Enjolras' stiff jaw and firm gaze shone clearly in his mind's eye, even though it was only what seemed a distant memory. The two of them together, Enjolras and Éponine, his golden locks contrasting obscenely with her dark ones, even in the dim light as the sunset on the faithful night.

It was the most prominent memory Marius had of Éponine's death. Never again would Marius know a friend who had given up more than Éponine had for him. Someday, when the time was right, he would tell the tale of Éponine Thérnardier.

It was the best memory he had of his long-gone friend. Never again would Marius know a man who had given up more than Enjolras had for Patria. Someday, when the barricades rose again, perhaps they would recall and remember Enjolras' name.

"They might have been happy together," he finished.

Cosette's voice was a soft, yet it still pierced the clip-clop of the horses on pavement drew to a close. "Perhaps they are, Marius. Together in the garden of the Lord." Her hand squeezed his as the fiacre slowed. Marius let out a quiet breath.

"I hope so, Cosette, I hope they are."


End file.
